


Dark Corners

by Cthulhu777



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Sam, Brother/Brother Incest, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Consensual Sex, Consent Issues, Dean Being an Asshole, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, Eventual Romance, Evil Dean Winchester, Genital Torture, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Homophobic Language, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Serial Killer Dean, Seven Deadly Sins, Tied-Up Sam, Top Dean, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cthulhu777/pseuds/Cthulhu777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are separated for four years while Sam goes off to college. Until his girlfriend, Jessica, turns up missing one night. Desperate, Sam tries to get back in contact with his older brother only to find out that some secrets are better if left unknown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Envy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BowleggedBeauty_Overdose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BowleggedBeauty_Overdose/gifts).



Banner by the lovely [BowleggedBeauty_Overdose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BowleggedBeauty_Overdose).

 

He hated her...

 

_No!_

 

Dean Winchester cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.

 

He loathed her with every fiber of his being.

 

Dean gripped his newly sharped bowie knife tightly enough to make his knuckles ache. He had been hunting and killing the supernatural since he had been strong enough to lift a shot gun. This wasn't the first time he had killed. Hell, this wasn't the twenty-first time that he had killed. However, she-- Jessica-- was going to be the first human being that he would ever kill.

 

He latched onto the back of Jessica's chair like some sort of parasite. The girl struggled against his expertly tied restraints; crying out sweet muffled sounds through her gag that sent a spark of arousal shivering down Dean's spine.

 

This Jessica was physically beautiful-- long, voluminous, curly blonde hair, a petite figure, small perky breasts, and dazzling facial features-- If this girl hadn't taken away the one thing that meant everything in the world to Dean then he would be having her in his Impala right now instead of being forced to murder the girl in some dank basement where nobody would ever find her salted and burnt bones.

 

“Hey sweetheart?” Dean paused leaning down by Jessica's ear, “You do know why you're here don't you?”

 

Dean observed the girl go from frantically scared to sheer zest for life terror just from the sound of his voice. A sadistic smile found it's way upon Dean's all too handsome lips. He felt powerful. He felt...aroused? No, maybe he just felt down right satisfaction as all of his jealousy melted away with each muffled scream of Jessica's.

 

“I'll take that as a no,” Dean noted how his mere touch seem to light the girl's body ablaze.

 

He finally stepped in front of her so she could see him. He _desired_ for her to look him in the eyes while he explained to her her crime. The girl quivered with uncontrollable fear. Tears streaming down her face, silently begging him for mercy.

 

“Look at me,” Dean ordered, gripping the girl by her arms with enough force to instantly leave bruises.

 

She _didn't_ comply.

 

He shook her violently feeling nothing for this blonde beauty except ill content. He should of felt something more. He had been expecting to feel anything but after being raised to be a killer this really shouldn't of surprised him that murdering a human being was just like murdering a creature except...well...less physically demanding.

 

He took the sharp end of his knife cutting off a golden lock of her hair. “You _do_ know Sam Winchester, don't you?” Dean asked idly smelling the lock of hair that he had cut.

 

His motive partially revealed. After-all, the girl had only been guilty of one thing and one thing only. However, it was the one thing that _nobody_ takes away from Dean Winchester.

 

He knelt down so he was eye to eye level with her and he waited.

 

And he waited.

 

And he waited.

 

He waited so long that the girl, albeit still shaking, had stopped crying.

 

Until finally it was utterly quiet; the moment was perfect. He leaned in almost as if he were going to kiss the girl but instead he halted an inch before her lips.

 

“You.”

 

“Defiled.”

 

“My.”

 

“Baby.”

 

“Brother.”

 

“You.”

 

“Virginity.”

 

“Stealing.”

 

“Slut.”

 

He enunciated each word loudly and slowly as if speaking to a naive child.

 

Now, the second part of his motive revealed.

 

_Jealously._

 

Not only had this girl taken up all of Sam's time, rendering Dean brother-less for the first time in his life but also she had been Sam's first.

 

“You've taken everything!” Dean was pacing about the basement now.

 

“His purity! His innocence! His time! His love! His affection! And now!”

 

He grabbed a single small tool. Flashing the girl both one of his award winning smile and a shiny razor in front of her face. “You're going to pay dearly for everything you've done.”

 

He knelt down again in front of the girl. His hands instinctively finding the rim of those cute little pink booty shorts she was wearing. Dean's hands stopped. He licked his lips.

 

“Now sweetheart usually I have girls on their knees for me--” His lip curled up in a cocky, domineering manner.

 

“But I can always make one exception...” And with that he yanked the girl's shorts down as far as her restraints would let him, exposing her nude bottom half.

 

He instantly felt a deep wave of arousal hit him in his lower abdomen; his eyes filling with lust. He _could_ rape her and damn he would be lying if the thought didn't cross his mind but he was already a killer he wasn't prepared to let himself be a rapist just yet. But he was going to have to violate her for a few minutes for her punishment.

 

He expertly found that bundle of nerves that he had so become accustom to stroking before he got sex. However, this time he found it with a whole different purpose entirely. He raised his razor slicing through the sensitive bundle.

 

Jessica screamed.

 

**888888888888888888888888888888888**

 

“Dean!” Came Sam's frantic voice from the other end of Dean's cell phone.

 

In the past Dean would have been ecstatic to receive a phone call from his Sammy. But that was before Sam had walked out on both him and their father and leaving them for what? A college degree and a girlfriend.

 

_What an idiot!_

 

“Long time no talk, Sammy, what's up?” Dean asked sounding way more sarcastic then he had meant it to be.

 

There was a long drawn out pause on Sam's end. He'd made him mad and Dean dimly knew that he should feel worse about that then he did.

 

“Look Dean...I know that things didn't end well last time we saw each other...and I know that I should of called bu--”

 

“Pffft!!” Dean interrupted. “Things ended badly? You should of called? Nah? Really Sammy? Did you _really_ need a college degree to figure that one out?”

 

Dean could tell by the way Sam was breathing heavily that Sam was quickly going from merely angry to furious with him. But after eighteen plus years of raising Sam, Dean knew there were a few situations that-- no matter how snarky Sam's tongue could be-- he wouldn't talk back to Dean. Sam wanting something was one of those situations. And Dean knew what he wanted.

 

Sam took a couple deep breaths, no doubt to exercise holding his tongue.

 

_Smart boy!_

 

“Jessica--”

 

And then Dean hit the disconnect button.

 

He already knew. Sam's vile slut was missing and he was desperately searching for her. No wait! Sam was afraid that something supernatural had taken her. Dean laughed at the irony of the situation...if only Sam knew where Jessica truly was.

 

Dean watched Sam's name light up with the ringing of his phone again and with that Dean broke his flip phone in half.

 

Dean had always been the vengeful type. No-- he shook his head-- he had been bred to be the vengeful type. However, seeing how his current target for his vengeance was his baby brother, whom he _did_ love, he had to get his revenge in an unconventional way.

 

Torturing Jessica, ignoring Sam's persistent phone calls, and manipulating Sam were all on his latest agenda.

 

Dean stood up, smiling a self satisfied smile to himself. Yep! After four years of feeling nothing but loneliness, today was a great day to have his brother worrying about him and a girl tied up in his basement.

 

 


	2. Gluttony

The floor was slick and slippery with blood but Dean stepped over it lightly. He _really_ should just kill Jessica instead of forcing her death to linger as if he was some sort of twisted fuck who gets off on other people's pain.

 

He pulled out a rag from his back pocket, wiping one of his blood drenched knife gently against the cloth.

 

“You know...I really should just kill you,” Dean commented, idly.

 

Jessica made a pitiful attempt at what sounded like a protesting moan through her gag. Tortured like a war prisoner for nearly two weeks and bloodied practically beyond recognition Jessica was losing her will to live.

 

Dean leaned up against a wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. At least he felt better. Apparently, torturing the root cause of his jealousy had been extremely therapeutic on his temperament. But then again—Dean stared at his reflection in his knife, seeing nothing but his dead soul in his own eyes—maybe he was just a screwed up individual.

 

“Alright then,” Dean took heavy strides towards Jessica.

 

Jessica's body reflexively flinching with each step he took towards her. He took out a butterfly knife from his pocket, expertly twirling it in between his fingers.

 

He knelt down once more towards Jessica's level, “I think I'm going to kill you now because it's the kind thing to do.”

 

He had said that more to console his self then to comfort Jessica. But at this point it truthfully was the humane thing to do. He had taken this way too far. Too far to turn his back on it now.

 

He halted his knife, gripping it with strong steady fingers, aiming right towards the blonde's heart. He extended his arm back, positioning it for a forceful and precise kill. His facial features stoic but his eyes determined, he—a loud banging erupted at the front door of the house he was renting––He relaxed his arm muscle, lowering his knife.

 

“Perfect,” he commented, humorously to himself.

 

“I swear to god if it's those Mormons again--”

 

**888888888888888888888888888888888**

 

Dean rubbed the temples on his forehead, desperately searching for the right excuse. _I'm sorry but would you two mind leaving so I can finish killing off Sam's girlfriend and clean up the bloody mess that's down in the basement? Yeah, the truth? That would never work–_

 

“How did you lose your phone this time, boy?”

 

Dean opened three bottles of beer handing two of them off to Sam and Bobby who now sat in the living room area of Dean's rent-a-house.

 

Dean switched between looking at Bobby—who had been giving him weird looks for renting a house when Dean clearly preferred crappy motels—and Sam—who looked awkward on top of uncomfortable and hadn't said more than _'hi'_ since he had walked in.

 

Dean took an unnecessarily long swig of his beer wishing that he had something much, much stronger.

 

Dean shrugged, “It was in my back pocket when I went to take a shit and it fell in the toilet.”

 

Dean observed Sam's face pale to the lie.

 

“No it didn't! You were talking to me when _you_ hung up on me!” Sam accused.

 

And there was Sam's snarky tongue...

 

Dean glowered at his younger brother. The kid was smart to have brought along Bobby. If he hadn't Dean would be beating him off of his lawn right now. Instead, Dean calmly took another drink from his beer.

 

“We lost connection–college frat faggot,” Dean corrected his younger brother, adding the insult just for the mere sake of being mean.

 

_It worked._

 

Sam stood up yelling, “What's wrong with you?! I never remember you being a two-faced liar before!”

 

_Okay...Now it was on._

 

Dean stood up snatching fistfuls of his younger brother's long curly hair.

 

“Get out now!” Dean warned in a low threatening voice.

 

Dean was close to snapping and he desperately needed to keep his cool until he dealt with Jessica down stairs.

 

“Will you idjits knock it off!” Bobby was now standing up, placing a hand on each of the Winchester's shoulders urging them to part ways from one another.

 

Dean let go and Sam backed away.

 

“Now, was that so hard? –No!–Now, go wait outside, Sam...I think it best if I talk to Dean alone,” Bobby ordered, glaring at both the Winchester brothers with equal disappointment.

 

The things he did for the sake of these two idjits was entirely beyond him. Sam complied, marching outside like a scorned teenager muttering insults under his breath.

 

“Don't let the door hit you on the way out–You're lucky you brought Bobby!” Dean couldn't stop his tongue from letting that one slide. He always had to get the last say in an argument especially with his brother.

 

“Well way-to-freakin'-go you moron! You don't see your brother for four years and this is how you treat him? _You're_ the older sibling, Dean. Act like it!” Bobby began to lecture.

 

Dean rolled his eyes ever so slightly, settling back down in a chair, obnoxiously throwing his booted feet up on a table, preparing himself to space out to one of Bobby's surrogate father lectures.

 

**888888888888888888888888888888888**

 

Sam aggressively kicked some rocks around as if the rocks were somehow guilty for making him feel this angry.

 

No—Sam cocked his head to the side thoughtfully—he wished he felt angry but he couldn't. He felt more miserable than anything else. This is not at all how his relationship with his brother was suppose to be.

 

For his first eighteen years of his life practically all Sam remembers is Dean. Dean taking care of him. Dean—as horrible of a cook as he was—making sure he was fed. Dean tucking him in at night. Dean reading him a bed time story. Dean teaching him to fight. Dean teaching him to hunt. Dean teaching him to drive. Dean getting him into trouble. Dean teaching him things that he _really_ shouldn't of taught him. Hell, Dean wasn't only his brother but he was also his best, and only, friend growing up.

 

They had been inseparable for eighteen straight years. Yet, suddenly all this had vanished when Sam had gotten in a fight with his father and ran away from the hunting life to the college life.

 

Like an adult that still couldn't go to sleep without their baby blanket, Sam had missed Dean from the moment they parted. But this wasn't all Sam's fault, Dean had hurt him too. Dean hadn't stuck up for him all the times John would belittle him. Instead, Dean would always side with the bastard while Sam was _always_ the one in the wrong. Sam figured that after all that time if that was the way Dean wanted to live then he was going to have to live without him.

 

Four years had somehow managed to slowly creep by without even receiving so much as a phone from Dean. At least, Jessica had made it bearable but as crazy as it sounds it wasn't the same without Dean. And seeing Dean for the first time in nearly four years had overwhelmed Sam. He didn't know what he had been expecting from Dean. He would say a hug but they never had been the hugging type. An apology? No, not really. He had been more like expecting things to resume like they once were.

 

However, Dean looked rough. Dean looked like he had been up to nothing these past years but obsessively hunting by himself, drinking and women. While the worst Sam had been through was worrying what to get Jess on Valentines Day and the fact that his legs were too long for his first dorm room bed.

 

Seeing Dean made Sam feel guilty. Dean had been through Hell alone and for the first time in his life Sam didn't know what to say to his brother...To make matters worse, after this little scene that just had unfolded between them Sam was pretty sure Dean hated his freaking guts.

 

Sam knew all too well that Dean could be absolutely stubborn and down right infuriating especially if one were to make him angry. But this was different...For the first time in Sam's life Dean had looked at him with hatred in his eyes. Sam had seen this look before when they had been hunting but Sam, himself, had never been on the receiving end of that look. Dean was bloodthirsty and this time it was for Sam.

 

Sam cringed at that thought, kicking around some more rocks, and flopping down right up against the outside entrance to the basement.

 

Sam thought he heard a faint muffled cry but he instantly shrugged it off, turning his attention towards his thoughts. He knew that it had been four years since he had really been around Dean but it was strange that Dean was staying in a rent-a-house...let alone a rent-a-house that was in a small town far away from any clubs or bars or fast food joints...let alone a rent-a-house that was excluded in the wildness probably at least thirty miles into said small town...

 

Sam heard that faint muffled sound again. This time Sam turned his full undivided attention towards the basement. Only reason Dean would stay in the middle of nowhere away from booze, restaurants and women would be if something supernatural was going on in this house but—there was that sound again and Sam's heart rate began to quicken—that didn't sound like anything supernatural...

 

That...

 

That...sounded like _a person!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if the sin is very obviously in this chapter but I was going off of the more subtle definition of gluttony: 'placing one's own interests above the well-being or interests of others.' Hope this clarifies some stuff and until next time pleasant readings~ (-:


	3. Wrath

Sam fruitlessly tried to yank open the entrance to the basement but somebody—or Dean—had the thing locked from the inside but good.

 

Sam's breath began to turn ragged when those muffled cries got louder and louder as he muddled with the door. He didn't want to think like this. He wanted to believe that Dean had a good reason for having somebody tied up in his basement. Perhaps he or she was possessed? But—if that were the case—then why wouldn't Dean have mentioned this to himself and Bobby?

 

Maybe just maybe Dean had become so accustom to hunting by himself that he didn't want help. Sam let go of the rusty door-handle. His breathing slowing back down almost to normal.

 

' _Yeah!'_ That had to be it.

 

He'll simply march inside and ask Dean. Talk to his older brother like he used to. He knew Dean...or, at least, he used to know Dean. He was sure he would receive a reasonable explanation.

 

**888888888888888888888888888888888**

 

Dean leaned his head back against his chair. Every agonizing word that Bobby spoke was making his skin crawl. It wasn't what Bobby was saying, per say. No, no he was nervous. He suddenly couldn't remember if Jessica had passed out or not. He knew for a fact he had duck taped her mouth shut but—he grind his jaw together slowly—was she passed out?

 

Remember. His eye twitched.

 

Think. He chewed the inside of his mouth raw.

 

Remember! He slammed his fists against the table, earning himself Bobby's full, undivided attention.

 

_'Crap!'_

 

The front door opened and in walked Sam. Sam looked liked he had just seem a ghost. There were no ghosts around here. Sam did not just see a ghost. Why did Sam had that perplexed look on his face then? Did he know something? He shouldn't have let Sam go outside. Outside there was a door to the basement. He had that door locked shut...But had his brother heard something?

 

Sam rubbed the back of his head. Sam always rubs the back of his head when he was nervous. Some things really don't change. “Sooooooo,” Sam stretched out the single word. Sam stretches out words when he's suspicious. Really...things don't change much.

 

It took every fiber of Dean's being to look as calm and collected as he could. But his eyes still met Sam's...Dean knew what was coming. “I thought I heard something in your basement--” Sam's damning words begun to leak out of his mouth.

 

_Guilty!_

 

Dean was guilty and he was beginning to perspire.

 

Sam's nostrils flared with both curiosity and apprehension. “Do you have a possessed person down there or something?” Sam finished off his question with one of the biggest corniest fake smiles he could muster up.

 

There had been a time when the sight of Sammy's smile would have had Dean bending over backwards just to see it again. But not now. Not anymore.

 

Not _ever!_

 

Dean mother fucking Winchester loves no one. That's right. He was on his way to becoming a stone cold killer. Part of him wanted to blame his dad for the way he had raised him but the other part of him wanted to blame his younger brother for shattering his heart and leaving him.

 

Truth was Dean had loved his baby brother a lot more than Sam had ever loved him. Sam had chosen to leave. Chosen to fucking leave without so much as a second thought to the fact that he would be leaving behind his older brother. Endless hours of growing up together had apparently meant nothing to Sam. Sam left and had taken all of Dean's empathy with him.

 

Dean didn't care anymore. Not about this situation. Not about the way Bobby was looking at him suspiciously. Not about Jessica. And certainly not about the fact that Sam was about going to hate him for the rest of eternity.

 

Dean blinked away unseen tears before they had the chance to embarrass the shit out of him. He gripped his glass beer bottle planning on knocking out Bobby first. Bobby had a pretty pistol strapped to the side of his hip.

 

 _Knock Bobby out, take his pistol, hold Sam up hostage, knock him out. 'Yeah!'_...Dean mentally congratulated himself. This was a great, on the fly, plan.

 

Without wavering his gaze from Sam, Dean honed his peripherals onto Bobby; chucking the glass bottle making contact with Bobby's face. The glass shattering. Due to the initial blow and shock Bobby was out of it enough to where he didn't react when Dean dashed over grabbing his pistol, cocking it and pointing it straight at his younger brother.

 

Sam looked too stunned and confused before harsh reality came crashing down upon him. Sam's heart sank. Dean hit Bobby over the head with the pistol successfully knocking him out. Was this really happening? How could—no, how _could_ _—_ the loving caring Dean Sam used to know do this?

 

Sam gulped harshly. His head suddenly feeling way way too heavy for his body. His breathing increased. His heart breaking. He raised his hands up in surrender showing he had no weapons. He didn't know whether he wanted to puke his brains out or cry his eyes out.

 

“W-w-who do you have in the basement, Dean?” Sam chocked out, his voice crackling, his eyes filling up with water that threatened to spill over. Years of memories flooding back into Sam.

 

_Dean's eyes!_

 

That's what is so different about him. Sam remembers looking into Dean's eyes and seeing the most loving vibrant emerald eyes one could ever hope to see but now his eyes, albeit the same color, flashed at him with a sinister warning. There was a darkness in Dean.

 

“Dean?! Who is in the basement??” Sam tried again, desperately, and this time with a tad bit more courage.

 

A sadistic smirk spread it's way along Dean's lips. “Now, now Sammy you have two options. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. The choice is yours.” Dean cocked the pistol aiming with deadly accuracy at Sam's head.

 

Sam's throat felt dry, and his world spinning; this wasn't the Dean who had raised him. The Dean who had raised him threatened monsters and protected his family. But it would appear that to this _new_ Dean family didn't mean much anymore.

 

“Dean...I-I—please, don't do this,” Sam's emotions made his voice shrink; he was dangerously close to begging. He felt defeated. He wasn't raised to beg. He was raised to fight but things change when the monster standing before him was his own flesh and blood.

 

Dean's intense stare wavered as his finger tampered with the trigger. He had a couple of options. He could shoot the bullets out of the pistol at the wall and take down his brother using hand to hand combat. At only twenty-six years old he was a seasoned veteran with hand to hand combat and Sammy? Well Sammy, although knowing hand to hand combat, surely had soften with four years of normal college life. Dean knew he could take him out. Yet...his brother would be fighting for his life so that makes this option risky.

 

The other option was to shoot his younger brother in the leg; injuring him enough to where he could knock him out with ease and tie him and Bobby up. Option two was better but it involved doing something that Dean would of sworn he would never do. He had vowed to protect Sammy since the moment his father had placed a crying baby—that would only stop crying for him—in his arms twenty-two years ago. Shooting his brother was going against everything he had promised. Hell, it was going against the basic wiring in his brain. But...What other choice did he have? He was caught red-handed in an extreme act of violence.

 

Sammy would hate him either way. Dean shook his head back and forth, flexing his jaw in a frustrated manner.

 

“God damn-it Sam! You forced my hand.” He lowered his aim and shot; a bullet tearing it's way straight through Sam's right kneecap.

 

Sam fell down screaming in agony.

 


	4. Pride

Hot.

 

He was so hot. His mouth devoid of all saliva. His throat burnt as he tried to swallow. His lungs filling up with uncomfortably dry air. His entire body wet from his own sweat. He tried to open his eyelids but they were sticking shut as if they were permanently glued to one another.

 

Then there was pain. Overwhelming pain. Shooting up his right leg throughout his entire body. Sam's arms reflexively went to aide the source of pain but were quickly restricted by the sound of clinking chains.

 

Terror and recent memories flooding back into his mind.

 

' _Dean!'_ Sam's eyes shot open revealing that he was in some old bedroom with his hands and feet bound to a bedposts with chains.

 

The room completely barren besides some old dusty curtains bunched up in the corner. He nervously pulled on the chains. Wrong move. Crippling pain made his world go utterly black for a few seconds. His eyes shooting towards the source of pain. His pants had been discarded and his right knee neatly bandage up.

 

“I removed the bullet, cleaned your wound up, and popped your bones back in place—It shouldn't get infected but your knee is broken in several places.”

 

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard talking. His eyes darting towards his brother who was standing in the doorway. Dean was covered head to toe in dirt, a fresh scratch on his cheek, and what looked like fresh blood on his black t-shirt. But most interesting of all Dean was lighting gripping a shovel that he had resting against his shoulder.

 

Sam put two and two together. His heart shattering from what his brother had become. Sam didn't even care that his eyes teared up at the site.

 

“Dean,” Sam spoke softly, his voice cracking.

 

Sam's emotions tore through him as he gathered up the strength to ask the next question. “Where's Bobby, Dean?”

 

Dean dropped his shovel making Sam's heart jump into his throat. Dean nearly tripped over thus mentioned shovel; lightly laughing at the serious question that Sam had just asked. It was then Sam realized that his older brother was heavily intoxicated. This wasn't a good thing. Dean's overall mood tended to darken in addition to him having a dangerously short fuse that nearly always lead to violence when he was this drunk. Sam had to be careful with his words.

 

Dean cursed the shovel that he just tripped over, kicking it as he took out a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels from within his worn leather jacket; chugging the rest of it as if it were water. He smashed the bottle against the wall, chuckling darkly as it broke.

 

“Don't worry Sammy! Bobby is A-okay...” Dean paused picking up a broken shard of glass. He gripped it tightly enough to draw a bit of his own blood.

 

“But the girl that I had down there isn't.” Dean was hovering over Sam, glowering, and breathing out of his nose heavily, clearly pissed.

 

Sam wanted to say so much. Wanted to scream at his older brother until he was blue in the face. Wanted to turn Dean into the police for what he had done. Wanted to. But Sam wasn't stupid either. He was tied down, severely injured, and Dean's fuse had a match lite next to it.

 

Sam swallowed down his anger speaking with as much tranquility as he could muster up to his brother, “Who was she, Dean?”

 

Dean stared off blankly. Guilt written all over his face. For a few seconds it seemed like Dean was going to calmly admit to what he had done. Nevertheless, his diplomacy came tumbling down in the form of a firm slap across Sam's face. “This is your fucking fault, Sammy!”

 

Sam's face strung from both the slap and the accusation. Sam curled his upper lip up preparing to verbally defend himself but was rewarded with another harsh slap across the other side of his face.

 

“Don't.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“You.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“Even.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“Pretend.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“To.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“Not.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“Know.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“What.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“I'm.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“Talking.”

 

**Slap.**

 

“About.”

 

**Slap.**

 

Sam kept his eyes clenched tightly. It was his only defense against the brutal blows that were being delivered to him by his own flesh and blood. It hurt like hell but Dean's words were the real killer. They were delivered with such venom and rage that it was painstakingly clear that not only did Dean not love him anymore but he hated his guts.

 

They hadn't parted on good terms. Sam remembers it like yesterday. His dad screaming at him. Telling him what to do with _his_ life, yet again. John always making Sam feel guilty. Making Sam hate his life. Finally John had made Sam snap when Sam had turned eighteen and had gotten accepted into Stanford university. Sam had wanted to have a normal life. Sam thought John would have been proud of this. Proud that his youngest wanted to be safe and make something out of his life. However, John was John and John was controlling. John had spat—literally spat—a big fat 'No!' right in Sam's face. Sam hadn't argued. No, instead he stormed out of their hotel with nothing but the clothes on his back and a couple of bucks in his pants pockets.

 

Dean? Well as for Dean...Dean hadn't been there for this quarrel. Sam had made sure of it. He had asked his brother to go do some grocery shopping so he could quote on quote 'attempt to make things right between him and their dad.' Okay...so Sam might of told a little white lie to Dean but he hadn't meant to leave without saying goodbye.

 

Once Sam was gone—away from John—he had felt freedom for the first time in his life. He felt _normal._ Sam hadn't had a cell phone back then but it had only taken his dad and Dean two weeks and one day to figure out exactly where he was at. 

 

They showed up unannounced, his dad barging back into his life attempting to pull him out of college as if that bastard had the right. Sam was pissed. No, he had been beyond pissed. He was nearly blinded by his rage. Cussing John _and Dean_ out telling them he hated them both and that he never wanted to see either of them again.

 

Sam hadn't meant these hurtful words towards his brother. It had been a spur of the moment bad decision made off of impulse. John had gotten in his face to scream his last piece at him while Dean...Dean had gotten up quietly and left. But he had glanced back at Sam—Sam remembers it perfectly—Dean had glanced back at him and he had tears in his eyes. It was the first time Sam had ever seen his rough and tough brother cry.

 

Sam had wanted to find Dean; apologize for everything. _His words weren't meant for him._ But the need to stay away from John had overpowered the nearly unbearable need for Sam to see his brother. Sam swore that the first six months away from Dean almost killed him. He found himself not being able to sleep without the soothing sound of Dean's calming breathing putting him to sleep. He could barely eat. There was nobody slouching across from him shoving unhealthy food in their mouth while proceeding to talk with their mouth full. Hell, it was difficult for Sam to think on his own. Nobody was there to talk everything out with him.

 

Sam had felt vulnerable, alone, humorless, awkward, and incomplete. But things got better when he was introduced to Jess. Jess was sweet, intelligent, smart, and the first girl Sam really ever had the chance to get to know and love. Jess was— _Wait...Jess?!_ \--

 

“Dean?! Who was the girl in your basement?” Sam asked his nostrils flaring as his breathing once again turning ragged.

 

Dean instantly backed away. His shoulders slouching, his eyes suddenly looked lost and sad instead of angry. Body language spoke a hell of a lot. Sam's eyes filled to the brink with salty tears. His already shattered heart feeling as if it had been ripped completely out of his chest. He was infuriated yet too miserable to express it. ' _Why would Dean do this to him?!'_

 

Sam didn't care anymore if he came across as a big fat baby. He let himself go. The tears streaming down his face like a cascade of waterfalls. And he cried—Okay, so he wailed—for he didn't know how long. Seemed like hours. Hours that Dean just stood there silently in a catatonic state. Dean was there physically but mentally he had checked out. And when Sam had finally gotten a hold of what little sanity he had left, the sun was setting and Dean was gone.

 

 _'Gone?'_ Sam felt himself dry heaving.

 

 _'Gone?!!'_ Sam's face turned red with anger.

 

How dare that bastard betray him? How dare Dean have the audacity to leave him tied up, injured, crying, thirsty and heartbroken like this? “Dean?!!!!” Sam bellowed.

 

Sam was shaking; his despair turning into pure resentment. “Dean!! How dare you?!! How fucking dare you!? You're a spineless coward!! I hate your fucking guts!--Dean???! I know you're listening! You hear me??! You bastard!! I'll kill you for this!!!!” Sam's voice rumbling throughout the house.

 

**888888888888888888888888888888888**

 

Dean cracked open a brand new bottle of Jack Daniels. His second bottle today. With the amount of alcohol he had coursing through his veins he was sure he would either get sick or pass out soon. Either of those seemed like utter bliss at the moment.

 

He had killed somebody. Fucking killed somebody who didn't deserve it. He had been planning on it though. Planning on it since he had found out about Sam's and Jessica's relationship, it had sealed Jess's untimely fate. But he hadn't meant on offing her with both Sam and Bobby in the same fucking house. Now what the actual fuck was he suppose to do?

 

Jessica's ashes were buried deep down underground nobody to ever find what little there is left of her. Bobby was tied down in the chair where Jessica had sat and Sam tied up in his bedroom—Well it was sort of a bedroom more like a lumpy mattress on a used metal bed frame that he had been sleeping on for the past month and half but whatever details didn't matter right now. What mattered was that his clock was ticking with deciding what to do with his family. Tears welled up in his eyes threatening to spill over. Fuck it nobody was around, Dean let them fall.

 

Bobby was like Dean's second dad for Christ's sake! But if he didn't do something with him he would come after Dean. Hell, Bobby would have the entire hunter's brigade coming after him for what he had done. As for Sammy—Well Sammy—Dean listened to Sam scream damning words directed straight towards Dean's icy heart; his stomach souring—At this point Sammy would step aside and let Bobby kill him.

 

Dean wiped at this tears taking an extra long swig of Jack. His sadness turning to poison quickly molding into sheer untamable rage that was pumping through his system, blinding him from any rational decision making capabilities that he might have had. He bolted up, slamming his fists hard upon the table knocking the rest of the bottle of Jack onto the floor.

 

 _'How dare he?!' 'Spineless coward?!' 'I fucking hate you?!' 'I'll fucking kill you?!'_ Sam's words replaying through Dean's mind.

 

Dean was in the goddamned right was what he was! Sam had been the one that chose to leave him after he had busted his ass his entire life trying to raise Sammy. He had done everything for his brother. Everything! But apparently everything hadn't been enough.

 

Fuck the past! All that mattered now was teaching Sammy a goddamned lessen about how he should and shouldn't speak to the person that fucking raised his ungrateful ass.

 

**888888888888888888888888888888888**

 

Sam had hollered every curse word in the book until he was blue in the face and his voice aching to the point that he thought he might have ruptured it. Finally he had calmed some. Most likely due to dehydration. He was starting to feel dizzy—well dizzier than he already was from finding out that his brother was a murder.

 

Sam closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. But there would be no moment of rest for him. His ears immediately perking to the sound of something squeaking. Sam's eyes darted towards the open doorway. Dean was pushing something?

 

Sam cocked his sweating head in curiosity. Sam's eyes widen as Dean rolled in a fairly bulky metallic tray that had an array of tools scattered on it.

 

“Sammy?” Dean picked up some duct tape and what looked like an old sock.

 

Sam's lip twitched. Had Dean completely lost his fucking mind?

 

Dean tore off a piece of duct tape with his mouth, staring at Sam with an unfamiliar glint to his eyes. “It's way over-due time you learn how to speak to me properly.”

 


	5. Covetousness

Dean straightened up, theatrically working out the cricks in his neck.

“You know, I’ve got to hand it to you, you don’t give up easily.”

 

_The floor was slick and slippery with blood, but he stepped lightly_ _over it. His footsteps echoed on the stone; the only sound apart from Sam's ragged breath._

 

“You’re much tougher than your girlfriend. She didn’t put up much of a fight before I snapped her pretty little neck.”

 

_There was pain, fading but still raw and fresh. But pain could be overcome. Just one more enemy to defeat, one more monster to kill. Sam counted the cracked and fading tiles on the wall. Focus on that. Focus on anything else._

 

Dean cocked his head thoughtfully to the side.

“Unless you count crying, of course.”

 

_There were 75 complete tiles left on the wall._

 

“…fast runner though, you’ve gotta give her that”, he continued conversationally, sauntering around the back of the bed, out of sight.

 

_There were metallic noises behind him as Dean opened a drawer, but that was irrelevant, out of his control. He began to count the stripes on the dusty curtains that were bunched up in the corner._

 

“You know, I had to chase her around the whole damn campus before I caught up with her? It was worth it though, to see the look on her face. Man, it was _p_ _riceless_ , you should’ve been there!”

 

_Don’t listen to the voice. The voice is unimportant. There were 78 thin off-colored stripes on the curtains. The curtains themselves were probably polyester._

 

“It’s really a shame you _weren’t_ there. We could have had some fun. Come to think of it, why was she all alone in the school so late? Pretty stupid of her, considering.”

 

_Ignore it. Don’t listen. Work out the area of the room. Don’t listen. Assuming the tiles are approximately twelve inches across…_

 

Dean strolled back into view holding something metallic in his hand.

“Oh that’s right, I remember!” He slapped his forehead in mock disbelief. “She was looking for you” He grinned and shook his head, walking over to the nearby tray and picking up a rag.

 

_Sam had run out of calculations. Move on the abstract then. Ignore the room. Ignore his voice._

 

Dean paced across the floor briskly, polishing the thing in his hand with the rag.

“I was the one who phoned her and told her you were in trouble—” He paused, and chuckled darkly. “Immediately, she went running around, by herself, in the dead of night looking for you...Bad things can happen to a girl like that.”

 

_The square of 11 is 121. The Cube of 11 is 1331. The square of 12 is 144. The cube of 12 is 1728. The square of 13 is 169._

 

“While I'm being entirely honest with you, Sammy, originally I approached her and offered her sex…I thought a cheating girlfriend would be the perfect way to get back at you for being a little bitch...Jess refused. I got angry...” He stopped abruptly and crouched down until his face was inches from Sam's own.

“Pity you let her die alone,” he murmured softly, and winked.

 

_The cube of 13 is…is…_

 

Dean leapt up and deposited the rag on the nearby table.

“Man, I’m hungry! You know, I think I might just go get a snack before I finish up here?” He glanced behind him and a smile spread slowly across his face.

“Hey, are you _crying?_ ” Dean gave a delighted laugh, strode over and slapped Sam companionably on the shoulder.

 

_Jessica._

 

“Guess you’re not as tough as I thought little brother.”

 


	6. Acrimony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiight ya'll I've added another tag. I wanted to sorta explore a possible outcome of what would of happened if Sam and Dean have had an incestuous relationship with each other as children but they were both too young to comprehend the severity of their actions. Normally Weecest isn't my thing so it's not described in detail.

The year was 1990. Sam had just celebrated his 7th birthday by hopping from one twin bed to the other in the hotel they were staying at. His dad? His dad had surprisingly spent the night with him and his brother and left this morning to somewhere...At the time, Sam hadn't quite understood where his dad went constantly but Dean repeatedly told him: _'dad is gone because he loves us.'_ Sam accepted this reasoning because he's not quite sure if he loves his dad but he knows he loves Dean and Dean would never lie to him. Ever.

 

Dean was pretty great. He watched out for Sam, always made sure he was fed, made sure Sam had kept up with his hygiene, tucked him in at night, and—best of all—Dean had never left Sam's side. Occasionally, Dean was grouchy and would threaten to leave Sam all alone but Sam knew his brother was bluffing. Dean would never do anything that would truly hurt Sam. Dean was—

 

“Sammy!” Dean had hollered, acutely.

 

Sam had immediately stopped bouncing, wrinkling his nose to the tone of his brother's voice. Sam new that tone—either he was in trouble or something bad was up. Sam had looked at his brother with his puppy dog eyes hoping that was enough to persuade Dean to leave him be.

 

Dean raised up his hand indicating for Sam to come to him, “C'mere.”

 

And Sam had went because Sam was trained quite well to be an obedient little brother and because all he had ever known was Dean. In a way, Dean was not only Sam's brother but also his father—he taught him right from wrong, he loved him but made sure to punish him when he needed to. And at the same time Dean was also Sam's best friend—Dean played with him, laughed with him, got into mischief with him, and cried with him. There would have been no Sam without Dean.

 

What had happened next was certainly not Sam's fault and it wasn't really Dean's fault either...if it was anybody's fault it was John's for carelessly drinking himself to sleep while watching hardcore porn that Dean had seen at the influential age of only 11 years old. At 11, Dean had a pretty good idea about what sex was but still, technically being a child himself, he didn't understand certain aspects about the act itself. Like he hadn't grasped that it wasn't okay on any level to try sexual things out on his 7 year old brother. At 11, all he knew was _'monkey see monkey do.'_ It was on that day, with that childish ignorant mindset, Dean had molested Sam for the first time.

 

Sam had always told himself that he didn't remember what had happened. However, sad truth was, he was lying to himself to make his self feel normal; he remembers it all and in agonizing detail. Dean had asked him if he loved him. Sam had replied with a cheery, _'Yes! Of course.'_ Dean then proceeded to tell him that if two people are in love they do certain things with each other and since Sam and Dean were in love then they must do these things.

 

At first, Sam had been up for it because it had seemed like some sort of fun game. And when Dean's lips had met his for the first time Sam was exhilarated. But things quickly took a turn for the worst. This game wasn't so much fun anymore when Dean had touched him in one too many areas where Sam had never been touched before. In one too many areas that Sam didn't know people were _supposed_ to be touched at. In one too many areas that Sam hadn't understood why he was being touched there. It was painful, weird, frightening and uncomfortable and Sam hadn't liked any of it. Sam had wanted Dean to stop. Had eventually begged Dean to stop. Dean hadn't stop...

 

So Sam did what any obliging brother would do: he shut up, went along with the choices his big brother was making for them both, he spread his legs and didn't tell anybody about their encounter. Over the next year Dean had practically molested Sam every opportunity that he had received. Albeit, Dean had never actually penetrated Sam, they had both unknowingly done just about every other dirty thing in the book. Until—what Sam was now guessing—Dean had become self aware enough of his own actions and comprehended why it so wrong to be doing naughty things to his 7 year old brother.

 

Sam remembers that perfectly too. How one day Dean abruptly quit touching him and for awhile almost turned icy towards him. Dean wouldn't stand within a ten foot radius of Sam, he barely looked at him, and became almost violent when Sam had asked him _'Why?'_

 

Dean had never again laid a hand on Sam in that manner and Sam kept his mouth shut never telling a living soul. It wasn't until nearly 5 years later when Sam fully understood, himself, exactly what it was Dean had done to him during that year. Nonetheless, Sam wasn't going to start talking about his past abuse now. So he did nothing more then tuck away his anger, guilt, embarrassment and confusion and dared to deal with his memories all on his own.

 

At first hiding his negative memories from his childhood had worked, until—that is—Sam had become sexually active with his first official girlfriend, Jess. Then there were more triggers then Sam could count. His brother's face flashing across his mind at the most inappropriate of times. Sam wanted to be touched in areas where a heterosexual man should never desire to be touched. And it wasn't Jess's fingers that he had craved to be put up there. No, no. He wanted his brother's...could he possibly get more screwed up then that?

 

Sam rather die than tell anybody, that most likely due, to being the victim of repeated sexual abuse as a child, he was having intense sexual fantasies of having sex with his older brother while he was having sex with his girlfriend. So he dealt with the taboo thoughts the only way that he knew how. He fingered himself in private and never spoke a word about it to anybody, especially Jess. But just when he thought he got his past trauma under control Jess had begun to call him _'Baby.'_ _'Baby'_ was Dean's word. Long before Dean dubbed the Impala _'Baby'_ Dean had called Sam _'Baby'_ especially when he would molest him...Sam nearly ended the relationship he had with Jess because of the simple pet name.

 

Sam had thought that he was smooth. That Jess had never suspected a thing. That he held it together perfectly. Only, he hadn't, because Jess had figured it out all on her own somehow. She had sat him down and asked him if he had been sexually abused as a child. Sam was so embarrassed. He was a 6'4” over-grown young man. Things like that weren't suppose to happen to men like him. But it had happened and on many a nights...

 

Sam had eventually broke down admitting to Jess that he had been repeatedly molested as a child, however, he never told her whose hands had committed the crime countless times. She never asked but Sam suspected she knew that as well due to his growing estranged relationship with his older brother. They didn't use Dean's name very often after that unless they had to say it. They never mentioned Sam's past abuse ever again.

 

Sam's regretting his stubborn vow of silence on that subject right about now...Sam should of confided in Jess about his sexual abuse while he had the chance. Just like Sam and Dean should of sat down and talked about what had happened between them when they got older. Perhaps if they had then neither of them would be in this horrible mess at the moment.

 

Sam had assumed that he was the only one that had suffered any emotional trauma from the past abuse. He never really thought about it from Dean's perspective. Dean was only 11 years old when he had begun to molest Sam and it was only because of careless parenting. Right about now, Sam is thinking that unknowingly molesting your younger brother can be pretty traumatizing. Dean definitely has carried confused emotional scars that he had hidden deep within his self for a long time now. And, right about now, they're showing.

 

After everything Dean has done to him: molesting him as a child, murdering the girl that Sam would of probably married, shot him in the knee, tied him up, is dehydrating him, and even tortured him, Sam _should_ hate his brother. However, all that Sam wants to do is to have the duct tape removed from his mouth so he can finally talk to Dean about their past. If Sam is gonna die he wants Dean to know that he doesn't hate him for the sexual abuse. If he hates him it's because he grew up to be one of the murderous monster that they're suppose to hunt.

 

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

 

Darkness surrounded him. He pried his bloodshot eyes open. It was too dark to see anything. The air too balmy to feel anything. All he could smell was blood. His head was throbbing...He reached for the back of his head in a panic. Remembering. He had been struck on the back of the head with something hard. Glass? _Maybe._ He had passed out. Terror washed over him. The aging marine/hunter did not like to _not_ be in control of his surroundings 24/7.

 

_Wait!_

 

He heard something moving towards him. His head snapped around in every direction pleading with unknown forces for even a shred of light to be spared to him.

 

“Who's there!” He called out as he heard another footstep towards him.

 

Another step was taken towards him. He didn't know what to say, for if he talked he knew his tongue would be drenched in promising threats of murder and he had a pretty good idea about just who might of done this to him...Question was, could he kill one of his sons? So for now he opted out of talking; he would simply listen.

 

Silence filled the area he was in. All he could hear was the rise and fall of his own chest.

 

And just when he was almost certain that he was alone a voice spoke up. “Bobby,” the shockingly familiar voice cracked. “I'm a murder...”

The solemn admission was followed by what Bobby was certain were tears.

 

Bobby's heart sank; his headache suddenly worsening. He had been in bad situations before. Vietnam, for one. For two, him being forced to kill his own wife because she was possessed by a murderous demon. For three, being a damn hunter in general. But _this?_ This was a whole new situation entirely. Bobby didn't have biological children. In many ways he considered Dean his eldest son. On one hand, Bobby knew from experience that Dean wasn't possessed so that leaves the grim reality that Dean has at least murdered one person according to his own free will making Dean dangerously close to a monster. And Bobby kills monsters. But on the other hand—if by some slim chance—Dean has at least a semi-reasonable explanation for killing a human being Bobby would love to cling to that and _not_ kill his eldest son.

 

“Why did you do it, boy?” A simple question with two very different, life changing outcomes. Bobby closed his eyes preparing himself for Dean to either answer with either life or death.

 

At first Bobby was answered with nothing but thick silence. He knew Dean was there though. Now that Bobby had locked onto his target he could hear Dean's subdued breathing while others wouldn't be able to identify the minuscule sound. He waited quietly messing with the restraints that bound his wrists.

 

Ten minutes passed. _Nothing._ Twenty minutes passed. _Still nothing._ Thirty minutes passed Bobby's patience was reward with Dean sitting on what sounded like a wooden log.

 

Dean cleared his hoarse voice, “I killed Sam's girlfriend Jessica because I was either furious at Sam for leaving me and dad or I was jealous because he loved this girl and not me anymore. I can't decide if I'm pissed or jealous. Maybe both—?” Dean paused, standing and making his way back up the basement stairs. “I'm only giving you a warning because you're family...I'm probably going to have to kill you and Sammy.”

 

And there was the confession that Bobby was dreading to hear. This ain't gunna end pretty for anybody.

 

**tbc.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter is based upon one of the seven deadly sins. But the sins will repeat because this story is going to be longer than seven chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at an SPN fanfic. Hope this wasn't too terrible to read. Drop some feedback and let me know what you'll thought of this. Until next time, pleasant readings~ (-:


End file.
